Valentine's Day
by Cynthia Salander
Summary: He'd always believed Valentine's day was a clever ruse, a Hallmark holiday, to swindle the money of people who thought they were in love, and to make the life of people who knew they weren't, miserable. Unfortunately, he'd always belonged to the second category. And that was until she came along. Season 4 & 5 - Mondler. One-shot.


_A/N: February 26, 1998 – air date of 'The One With All The Rugby' (the episode where Chandler goes to Yemen :D)._

_February 11, 1999 - air date of 'The One Where Everybody Finds Out'. _

_That's 2 weeks after and 3 days before Valentine's day, respectively. And I couldn't help but tweak the timings a little, such that both the incidents happened before Valentine's day in both years._

_Meaning, in the second part, their relationship is still a secret._

_Remember, in the first part, apartment 19 is the girls' apartment._

_I know 'Notting Hill' is an anachronism here, but nothing else fits the story better :)_

_And this is kinda alternate reality. Chandler's first-person narrative._

**Valentine's Day**

**February 14, 1998**

I hate Valentine's day.

It's an overrated trick that all the greeting card makers use to trap willing suckers, into a deceptive web of money-making. Or in simpler terms, it sucks.

It's on the top of my list, just below Thanksgiving.

And no, my parents didn't do anything to screw this up for me, I'm glad you asked. Although, there was this one Valentine's day where I walked in on my mom, dad, _and _the pool boy, while they were doing, what I still hope to this day, was nothing more than playing an innocent game of 'strip twister'.

But, I'm getting off the topic.

You want to know why I hate this day, so very much? Well, for one thing, although I've been 'single' for almost my entire adult life, it'd be nice to be _not_ 'single' at least on _this_ goddamn day. The pitying looks that I receive, all the smiling, laughing, kissing and loving that goes on around me – to quote the words of J.D. Salinger: "Just plain pisses me off."

I mean, someone in Rome actually _died _on this stupid day, and what do we do to show our respect? We go around frolicking in swishy dresses with plunging necklines (when I say 'we', I don't really mean a 'we' that includes an 'I'), sucking off the faces of people whom we "_love_". Come on, people! Don't you have anything better to do?

Joey interrupts my thoughts by tugging my shirt sleeve, gesturing for me to come outside.

The three girls seem to be absorbed in the Hugh Grant movie that they always play at this time of the year - 'Notting Hills' or 'Beverly Hills' or something - and I can see Monica, with tears in her eyes, mouthing the words 'I'm just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her', along with Julia Roberts.

Seriously? Couldn't the moviemakers find something_ more_ cliché?

And the worst part is watching Ross wipe away his tears, not so very discreetly. And they call _me _a sissy.

Nobody seems to notice as I exit apartment 19, and I'm tempted to say _'Could I be more invisible'. _But I keep my mouth shut and follow Joey out to the hallway. "What?" I ask, closing the door behind me.

Had Kathy called to apologize? If she had, what should I do? Would it seem too desperate if I went crawling back to her? Or should I stay stubborn and pull a 'Rachel'?

Joey, the master of 'Thought-Interruption', strikes again as he hands me an envelope. "This came for you yesterday. I forgot."

Just as I'm about to ask why he had to pull me out of the girls' apartment to give me this, he adds, "It's from Janice."

Oh. So no call from Kathy? Wait, did he say _Janice_?

There's nothing like a swift kick to the crotch, when you're already down. And Janice can always do that to me. Always.

I shudder as I remember my recent visit to Yemen, while Joey pats me compassionately on the shoulder, before he leaves me alone in the hallway, and enters the girls' apartment.

Strengthening my resolve, I tear open the envelope, pulling out a card from inside.

Tacky, glittering hearts cover the outside – see what I mean when I say that Valentine's day is nothing but a clever, money-swindling trick of greeting card makers? - and I open the card apprehensively, wondering what she could have written. With my luck, it'd be something like 'I'm pregnant from the last time we had sex, two years ago'.

_Hello, Bing-a-Ling_, I cringe as I read the nickname, _I miss you this Valentine's day. Remember the time Joey set us up on a blind date on a Valentine's day?_ Do I ever! One of these days, I'll get around to killing him for that. _Apparently, your Yemen address is invalid. All the letters I mailed before have returned._ Considering the fact that the address is fake, I'm not really surprised. _I'm hoping that Joey would forward this card to you, _don't worry, he did, _and that you'd come to know how much I actually miss you._

I smile as I read it. I really do. It's always nice to hear when someone says 'I miss you'. My smile remains on my lips until I read the postscript.

_P.S. I'm going to your place on the 15th to drop off a cheesecake (for you) with Joey, and to get your address right. Maybe I could send it myself. Do you think it'll be fresh after a flight to Yemen? _

_Happy Valentine's day!_

My Valentine's day just got worse.

Monica enters the hallway, carrying a milk carton, which I presume, is empty. "Hey," she smiles brightly, but on seeing my ashen face, she furrows her brow. "Are you okay?"

I hand her the card wordlessly, and she hands me the empty milk carton, motioning for me to throw it away. I obediently follow her silent instruction, and throw the carton into the garbage chute.

For a second, I stand there, considering throwing myself into it, but then I remember the trouble that I had to go through, to pull a half stuck Joey from its confines. There must be better ways to commit suicide.

When I return to Monica, she is grinning widely, her eyes moving along the final few words. She looks up finally, the grin plastered on her face.

I've always liked her smile. It makes her look all the more beautiful than she already is. But this grin, I'm not sure I like it very much.

"So, _Bing-a-Ling, _huh?" she asks, still grinning, tilting her head to one side.

I grab the card back from her. "Yeah," I mutter.

"Don't worry, I'll get the cheesecake from her for you, so that Joey wouldn't eat it." She nods. "I mean, if that's what you're worried about," she grins again.

Maybe I should have kept this to myself. "Thank you," I nod back, sarcasm eluding me at the moment.

Her grin turns into the smile that I was talking about earlier. Y'know, the one that I love. Oh, did I say 'like' before? Yeah, that's what I meant. 'Like' not '_love_'. It's not that I don't _love _her smile... Ok, I'll be shutting up now.

Anyway, she smiles at me and comes a little closer. "I know you're not having the best Valentine's day so far, but I'm going to go out on a limb here, and promise you that someday, you'll find a woman from whom you don't want to run away."

As I smile at her, touched, her grin returns. "And better yet, a woman who doesn't want to run away from you."

"Oh, gee, thanks again." I nod.

"Thank you for throwing away the milk carton," she says, and in a moment of tenderness, pecks my cheek. Pulling back, she nods again. "I'll get the cake from her for you."

"Ok." I turn around to enter my apartment. "And I'll book an online flight ticket for me to Yemen."

Did I tell you that I _hate _Valentine's day?

~.~

**February 14, 1999**

I love Valentine's day.

It's on the top of my list, just below the night of Ross and Emily's rehearsal dinner.

We're watching the same movie we watched last year. But this time, it's just me and Monica, lying on the couch together, and we're in her apartment.

"Maybe _we_ could go to Notting Hills sometime," I murmur, burying my face in her neck, breathing the now familiar scent of rose, lavender and honeysuckle. If I could bottle it up, I would.

"Notting _Hill_," she corrects me. She shifts to lie on her back, to face me better, her hand rising to hook around my neck, holding me close. "Yes, that'd be nice."

Everyone is out on a date, leaving us alone together for the first time in many days.

Do you ever tell your brain _'Remember this moment. Whatever you do, don't ever forget this moment'_? I do. All the time. That's what I'm saying to it now.

I feel satiated, content. If I die right now, I'd die a happy, happy man.

Hugh Grant continues to speak on the television, but we're no longer interested in the reasons that he has to say for rejecting Julia Roberts.

"Happy Valentine's day," I whisper against her throat.

It must have tickled, because she laughs, rather than replying.

As I lift my head, she reaches forward to kiss me on the lips.

I feel that overwhelming surge of emotions that has become a common experience to me these days. I realize with surprise that it no longer scares me.

"Happy Valentine's day," she pulls back and smiles. This time, though, I realize, even more surprised, that I'm in love with her.

Not that I didn't know it before. But this particular realization knocks my breath away, every time.

I lean over her and turn off the television, just as Ms. Roberts starts her famous dialogue.

"Hey!" Monica looks at me mock-admonishingly.

As she turns to switch on the TV again, I pull her towards me.

"Chandler..." she whines, as she is unable to turn the television back on.

"I'm just a boy," I say, my heart pounding in my chest, "standing in front of a girl, asking her to love him."

From the lack of warmth on my skin, I know she has stopped breathing. Her eyes widen, and her hand stops struggling to get free of my grasp. I can see her eyes starting to glisten.

She leans forward finally, and brushes her lips against the corner of mine.

I can feel her breath against my skin, again, and her eyelashes flutter against my cheek.

She whispers after what feels like an eternity to me. "The girl loves him, too."

Yes, I love Valentine's day.

But, I love _her _even more.

~.~.~

_A/N: Oh, well. I still think 'Valentine's Day' is nothing more than a Hallmark holiday, but they give huge importance to it on the show, and M&C seem to celebrate it with passion. And thus, this fic was born._

_This happens to be my first story in first-person narrative, so I'd really, really appreciate any feedback :)_

_Thank you for reading!_


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